Paris in the springtime

I just woke up sweaty, achy and confused in a single bed in the Hotel Premier Classe in Paris. It is the tiniest little red and white hotel room, like a kid’s bedroom. Carlie left a sweet note of how to reach her with a room key. Without Carlie I probably would have woken up sweaty on the airport floor. Ha ha. I have a memory of walking here from the subway up stairs and down stairs with my luggage. Having to summon every particle of strength from my achy exhausted arms. I had to lie down on the pavement several times because I felt like I was going to faint. I am shaky, I have food here and looking at it brings waves of nausea. I have a cold sore on my lip that was supposed to not flare with medication, but while my strength and will are at a temporary low my cold sore is thriving like a blooming rose. It hurts. I look terrible. I am soaked through with sweat and I smell like airplane, sweat and spilled coffee but getting in the shower seems like an enormous feat.

To top off this marvelous, experience, I have been crying in uncontrollable waves for the last two days. While the timing feels cruel, I have realized that some of the core people I had chosen to rely on in my emotional support system aren’t truly good for me. The signs have always been there. I have just opened my eyes. I am craving to connect with them, to call or write them emails but this is just habit. I have to stop fooling myself and see them for who they are. Not who I want them to be. Despite the endless tears and what feels like strange timing, I know this is the right thing. I have to stand on my own two feet and find my connections in healthy places from nurturing stable people who really want me by their side.

I miss my terrier and the comfort he brings me. I miss his wiggly walk and the way he paws at me, stares at me and cocks his little head. I miss the free flowing Canine love and happiness. I miss his little short legs and his stubborn ways.

When I pictured this day in Paris, I thought I’d be out and about, happy and thriving and enjoying the food. Not unable to move, eat or wash. I feel stupid for letting myself be in this state. Well maybe I’ll just cut myself some slack, roll over in my sweaty bed and cry some more.

Tomorrow early Carlie and I are flying to Nice and the going to Cannes. I’m sure by that time I will have gotten myself together a bit better and at least have taken a shower. Strength is will not muscle so just have to re-arrange my thinking. Crying and feeling sorry for myself gets boring fast for me, god I wish I wasn’t so lonely.